


Battle for Mutual Territory

by starburst_sunbeam



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:44:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2571950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starburst_sunbeam/pseuds/starburst_sunbeam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nursey and Dex both consider Chowder their friend, and they both like him, even if they don't like each other. Nursey only carries his bag once to the Haus, and if Dex sees him do it and considers it a challenge over Chowder, well, who is he to back down?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battle for Mutual Territory

**Author's Note:**

> I think Chowder possibly turned more blushing and wide-eyed than he was supposed to, and everyone is considerably less "bro-like" than they should be, but in the end I think it worked out okay. Most of this fic was planned in advance, but some Halloween stuff was added in after Bitty's twitter rampage. 
> 
> And I'm sorry if Nursey being called Derek (because his POV) through the whole fic puts you off. It put me off while I was writing it too.
> 
> Also thank you so much to Ngozi, not only for creating and maintaining this amazing comic, but for letting me ask her dumb questions in preparation for this fic and answering really nicely and seriously.
> 
> *Edit: Realized they accidentally had two first games because I created one and then put in the official Halloween one? So fixed it now by making it a practice scrimmage. My bad.

It starts by accident.

Derek bumps into Chowder on his way out of his Elizabethan Poetry class, the kid practically swallowed in one of the San Jose Sharks hoodies he keeps in various sizes. He's concerned that Chowder doesn't know his own size. He's concerned about Chowder a lot of the time, actually.

"Hey Chowder," he says, catching him by the shoulders as Chowder practically barrels into him.

"Nursey!" he calls, grinning, the braces on his teeth obvious.

"Where're you headed?" He asks, releasing the kid and checking him over. You can't be too careful with Chowder.

Chowder shrugs. "Just the Haus. Want to come?"

Derek doesn't have anywhere to be, so he shrugs. "Sure. Here, just let me -" he reaches for Chowder's bag, hanging precariously from one of his shoulders.

"Thanks," Chowder says, grinning, letting Derek take the bag off him. He's sort of charmingly ridiculous, all ruffled dark hair sticking up in every direction and a wide smile emphasized by braces. He looks like a kid and a college student all at once. Derek gets that familiar mixed wanting to both protect him and ruin him.

"No problem," Derek tells him, pulling the bag over his own shoulder, feeling the tumble of disorganized books inside. He ignores the feeling itching under his skin.

He tags beside Chowder all the way over to the Haus, listening to him chatter away with a calm ear: how the Shark's are looking in the pre-season, how he's nervous about their first game of college hockey, how the weather up at Samwell is a lot drier and cooler than California.

"'Swawesome! We're here!" Chowder says, bursting ahead of Derek and into the Haus. He would be offended, but Chowder always seems bursting with energy, especially when he gets around the older players he admires so much.

He wanders in, and when he gets into the kitchen where Chowder will inevitably be scoping out for the possibility of baked goods, it's already full of people. One of which was very, very unexpected.

Dex is sitting in one of the chairs in the kitchen, and as soon as he sees Derek trailing in after Chowder, his eyes narrow into a glare.

"So, Bitty, pie?" Chowder asks, opening the fridge. "Oh sweet, mini-cheesecakes!"

"Uh, yeah, help yourself," Bitty says, glancing between the three of them as though he's gauging whether he can prevent Derek and Dex from jumping at each other in the middle of the kitchen, despite that he's at least half a foot shorter than either of them, and also glancing at Chowder to wonder how it is that Chowder hasn't noticed at all.

"So, what're you doing here?" Dex asks, voice all made up of passive-aggression.

Derek shrugs. "Just carrying Chowder's bag," he answers, hoisting the bag in front of him as evidence.

He doesn't understand exactly what he's done until Dex's eyes narrow even more, gaze flickering over to where Chowder is standing at the fridge, obliviously trying to carefully extract one of the baby cheesecakes, making it look like one of the most difficult balancing acts of all time. "Oh really?"

Derek takes the time to think over what his next move is as he slowly sets the bag onto one of the empty chairs. "Sure. Always happy to help Chowder out."

Dex's lips thin. "He just texted to ask if I wanted to meet at the Haus for a snack check before our computer class."

Derek smiles back, a challenge. "That's nice. I must have run into him after," he mentions, making it clear he wouldn't have shown up if he'd known it would have involved Dex.

Dex practically bares his teeth.

"Well, I'll see you all later," he says, turning to the door, but pausing to clap Chowder on the shoulder. He knows he probably shouldn't say it, but he does, easily throwing out, "Hey Chowder, if you want me to come carry your bag again, or anything else, just let me know."

Chowder turns to him with wide thankful eyes, and Derek hears vaguely in the background that Dex makes a muffled sound of frustration. It makes satisfaction hum through him. "Thanks, Nursey," Chowder says, sincere.

"No problem," he tells him, and then heads out.

* * *

 

Derek received a text from Chowder half an hour ago to meet him in the Haus, and here he is, waiting in the Haus, and Chowder is nowhere to be seen. Bitty's hovering around him, seeming intent on trying to get Derek to eat at least one of his baked goods, and seriously, if Chowder doesn't show up soon he's leaving. Chowder's the type to forget about these kinds of things, it probably completely slipped his mind and he wouldn't even be offended. He's not sure how much longer he can stand Bitty's mothering. (The guy is worse than his own Mom, and it's a little disconcerting to have a five foot six right winger telling him he "really needs to eat more, good lord, I worry about how you were raised with kind of parents that let him get a tattoo that young," all in a southern accent. Derek would be offended if he didn't know that it was meant well.)

Thankfully, Chowder actually does show up then, bursting through the kitchen door with bright eyes and chirping "Hey Bitty, Hey Nursey!" at them. Derek's opening his mouth to ask him where he's been when Dex comes in, pace leisurely, and his mouth snaps shut. He looks far too relaxed, and the vague suspicion that sprung up at the sight of him gets confirmed when Dex catches his eye and _grins_.

"Hey," Derek says, slow, gauging, "What were you two up to?"

"Oh nothing," Dex says, "Just working on our programming homework together."

Derek feels the spark of jealousy burst in him suddenly, shooting up through his stomach and setting anger into a flame. He's not sure exactly where it comes from, and he's not too keen on figuring it out when Dex is grinning at him like that. He wants to punch him in his stupid freckled face. Well, his face isn't the only thing that's freckled, but it's what Derek wants to punch. He's glanced over in the locker room before and noticed that Dex is freckled all the way down his chest. Which really isn't something he should be thinking about right now.

"That's nice of you," Derek says, neutral.

Dex shrugs, "Chowder's a friend, of course it's no problem to work with him."

Derek's eyes haven't moved off of Chowder. "Of course."

He realizes then that he started something with the bag, and while he hadn't meant to, he's certainly not about to back down.

* * *

 

It continues on from there. Derek shows up almost late to practice with Chowder, easily explaining it away with how Chowder had slipped on the way here and he'd taken the time to check him over just to be careful. Dex returns with Chowder coming into the Haus one day, glowing over how Dex had gotten him one of the Samwell beanies in the school store, and Dex trails in after him, the soft smile he'd directed at Chowder's back switching into a full, mean grin when he set eyes on Derek. (Toque, Jack had insisted, looking a mixture of offended and hurt by the terminology. They'd ignored him for the most part.) Derek tapes Chowder's stick for him, Dex spends a whole afternoon in Chowder's dorm working on programming together, Derek carts over half a dozen of Bitty's cupcakes up to Chowder's dorm on the day he's too busy working on a paper to leave.

It's a fight, and maybe Derek would feel worse about it, if it weren't for the way Chowder's beaming smile sends warmth curling into his stomach, swirling leisurely. He doesn't examine it too closely.

"I know what you're doing," Dex leans over to say to him, low, when they're sitting on the bench together in a practice game, a scrimmage with the team split into two against each other. He and Dex are already hammered down as a D-man pair for the season, so they ended up on the same team, and Chowder's on their team as the goalie with most of the less experienced guys rounding out their roster to try to even it out, since they don't have another goalie to play. It's one of the few times they're together without Chowder around, the goalie out on the ice while they're on a shift off. (For someone who won't touch pucks off the ice, he's incredibly good at taking them head on from a shot.)

"Do you?" Derek murmurs back, eyes kept on the dart of the puck between players, though he spares a raised eyebrow.

Dex's voice catches on an edge of frustration, grating, "Don't play so innocent. Chowder's too good for you."

Derek bristles at that, casting a glare out of the corner of his eye at him, jaw locked. "Back off."

Dex shakes his head. "No way."

Derek turns away then, but he can barely pay attention to the game, caught with tension and nearly shaking with it, barely able to catch his focus again when he and Dex are put back on the ice. He nearly misses a shot that comes directly at him, but he manages to block it, trading it off to one of the third liners. After their team skates off to the other end to try offensive play, Derek spares Dex a glare, making it clear he blames him. Dex smiles beatifically back.

They win the game, and Derek wishes he could take more pride in that than he does.

* * *

 

Chowder's room mate has started to recognize him on sight, and Derek would take some satisfaction from that, if it weren't for the fact that he learned who Dex was much more quickly, since Dex hung around in the dorm more often to work on comp sci homework. The roommate looks up when Derek ducks through the empty doorway, and when he glances up, confusion in his eyes, Derek freezes.

"What are you doing here?" the room mate asks. (Paulie? Pedro? Derek can't remember.)

"I'm here to see Chowder?" he says, slow, making it a question at the end as it becomes obvious that Chowder isn't in the room. Derek would've checked beforehand, but there's a small amount of satisfaction that comes from the way Chowder lights up at surpises.

"He just left," the room mate says, eyeing him with even more confusion. "With that redheaded guy. Aren't you all on the same team?"

Derek tenses up, has to keep from swearing out loud. "Ah, I didn't check in first. Thanks."

The room mate shrugs, seeming to brush him off and go back to his work. "No problem."

Derek stalks away from the dorm, the paper bag in his fist crumpling. He lifts it up too look at it, feeling stupid, feeling the angry prickle at his eyes. It's completely irrational: Chowder's a person, not a prize, but at the same time, knowing that he might like Dex better, spend more time with him and even share a class, that Derek might be getting completely left behind, doesn't sit well with him.

* * *

 

The have a team practice the next week, and the coaches are trying to work on Derek and Dex's ability to read each other. They're generally good at it, contrasting to popular opinion, he can pick up on Dex's cues easily, can tell by the shift of his body weight, the scan of his eyes, the way his fingers tense and relax on his stick what he's going to do.

He just chooses to ignore it a lot, because Dex's ideas are stupid.

He doesn't tell the coaches this. He doesn't think it would win him any points.

Eventually Coach Hall and Murray give up on them, throw their hands up and go to work on the forwards, including Shitty's passes and Bitty's checking. Jack's watching them with a careful hawk eye, and Derek would consider that just the normal attention of a captain checking in on things if he didn't seem to be mostly focused on Bitty. Jack's weird about Bitty, he doesn't know how no one else has noticed. He's pretty sure he once watched Jack check a guy solely because he was watching Bitty a little too intently, as a pre-emptive measure against _him_  checking Bitty.

When practice is winding down, Derek steps off the rink only to be snagged by something -- or more accurately, someone.

"You need to work things out with Dex," Holster says, catching him by the arm as he's getting off the ice after practice, "or it'll start to affect your chemistry on the ice."

Derek frowns, pulling away from the grip. "I'll keep that in mind."

Holster wouldn't get it, not with the way he and Ransom have their perfect balance. He and Dex aren't _buds_ , probably never will be, he _hates_  Dex, and he doesn't want to wipe everything away to a clean slate, doesn't want to end that simply, at least not without getting a victory in.

Holster frowns at him. "None of us like it for the team, but we don't like you two being at each other's throats in general either. Especially Chowder."

Derek has to fight not to flinch at the reminder. "It's not that easy."

Holster shakes his head. "I don't even think you've _tried_."

"Dex has attitude, you should know that by now," he says, and it comes out calm and syrupy slow, the typical blown out bro voice, but he feels strung tight beneath the surface.

Holster doesn't look placated, but he waves Derek off, letting him go. He's petty sure he's just done dealing with him more than he is convinced by Derek. He's pretty sure Holster can only keep his attention on things that aren't hockey or 30 rock for so long.

Chowder comes skating up then, bumps up against Derek's back since he's stalled in the gate frowning after Holster, and Derek feels the brush of his hands warm through his gear as Chowder steadies himself by a hand pressed to his lower back. "Whoa! Hey, Nursey, you okay there?"

"Yeah," Derek says, turning and hauling Chowder off the ice after him. "I'm good."

Chowder pulls his goalie mask off, hair wet with sweat and sticking up in all directions. "You sure?"

"Yeah, Chowder," Derek tells him, glancing over at where Dex is skating towards them. "I'm sure."

The three of them wander into the locker room together, Chowder chattering away at both of them while they both listen with an idle ear and mostly ignore each other. He mostly stops as they clean up, though Derek thinks he catches a snatch of Chowder trying to say something over the rush of the shower spray.

"Uh," Lardo says, wandering into the locker room, seeming completely uncaring of the half-naked men all around her, "I have a message for a Chris?" she says, looking confused. She squints a little closer. "Chris... Chow?"

"Oh!" Chowder shouts, stepping forward. "That's me, sorry."

Lardo's look shifts to amused. "That explains a lot."

Chowder, looking sheepish, takes a slip of paper from her. He flushes a little then, muttering a thank you and shuffling away.

"What is it?" Derek asks, trying to peer over his shoulder to see. Chowder shuffles away again.

"Nothing," he mutters again, face still blotchy and reddened.

Dex leans over a snatches the paper, Chowder crying "hey!" and trying to grab it back, but Dex just holds it above Chowder's reach and peers at it. He starts to laugh suddenly, and Derek pauses for a second, surprised by it. He doesn't think he's ever heard Dex laugh like that; he's not sure he's ever heard Dex laugh at all.

"Dude," he says, tossing the slip at Derek. He obviously didn't think it through carefully, since the wide surface of the paper combined with its light weight just causes it to flutter off aimlessly, but Derek manages to snatch before Chowder's frantic fingers can.

He doesn't look at right away, eyes on Chowder. "Chris?" he says.

Chowder flushes deeper, going a shade of red that Derek pretends he doesn't find charming. He glances at the sheet then.

 _Hi sweetheart! :)_  It reads, _I'm sorry I couldn't make your first college game, but I'm sure you'll be amazing. I'm sure your coaches and team mates are thrilled to have you, and I'm so proud. Remember, just have fun playing! I'll see you later, baby. -Mom_

It's amusing enough on its own, but it becomes even better when he realizes that there's no way Lardo would randomly have a note written directly from Chowder's mother, and that it must have been annotated to her over the phone, smiley face and all.

"Lardo?" he calls, and the small girl turns to him. "Did you get this called in?"

She grins, obviously seeing what he's getting at. "Yeah."

Chowder turns even redder, and Derek happily tucks the slip into the jeans Chowder had changed into. "You'll destroy all the shots they try to get passed you," he says, ruffling Chowder's shower damp hair.

Chowder smiles, obviously pleased even while he's still flushed from embarrassment. "Yeah?"

"Absolutely," Derek tells him, and Chowder's grin widens.

Dex bumps Chowder with his hip. "Split-making puck wrecker."

Chowder looks positively giddy with the attention, turning away to change his into his shirt while a smile pulling at his mouth. Dex and Derek exchange a look while his back is turned, eyes meeting for a brief moment before they turn away. Somehow it feels easy to get team up to cheer up Chowder. There's something in that he doesn't want to analyse.

* * *

 

They kill their first game, one that's set up on Halloween and that Derek and Dex spent at least two hours of the day before arguing over he's going to get the first point of the season between them. Chowder tries to break in a couple times, looking distressed, but Derek and Dex get at each other's throats on the best of days, and with nerves racketed up before they're about to hit competitive college for the first time, getting them to be civil is pretty much a lost cause.

They disperse for a rest beforehand, and Derek meets back up with the rest of the boys, he hears about Chowder falls asleep on the Haus couch at some point, head cushioned on his backpack, arms curled around himself. He's getting teased by the boys, trying to defend himself while Jack quietly convinces him that the couch really isn't infested with unknown germs and various dangers and giving Ransom and Hoslter quelling looks when they try to continue it. Chowder's distracted by the older players, wrapped up into the team and a small, vital part of its working, and Derek looks at him and feels fondness swell in him, tightening his throat and warming his core.

He knows he's totally, completely screwed, and the more frightening part is that he's beyond caring.

They wreck their first game (as prophesied by Lardo, who is probably the coolest manager ever), even though Shitty nearly took out Ransom before the game even started with his "mad sick soccer talent". Derek feels pleased enough with himself, but Chowder's practically blooming under the attention, the gentle knocks on his helmet as the guys pass him and give their short praises. He doesn't feel bitter in the least about, Chowder deserves the compliments.

They all get roped into a party at the Haus then, and Shitty keeps pushing at Chowder and Jack to drink as the players of honour tonight, so they can get their "beautiful faces wasted". Jack gives up a half-hearted attempt at holding him off, and Chowder's so taken with the team that Derek's half convinced they could get him to do pretty much anything. (It's a good thing the team as a whole seems equally protective of Chowder's innocence. Derek gets alarmed sometimes that Chowder's been the same age as him for a few weeks by now, he feels responsible for him somehow.)

The two give in, doing kegsters, and Shitty grabs Chowder after he's done his, flushed and ruffled and beaming, slinging an arm over his shoulders. "This fucking beaut of a goalie, look at him. He's sex between two pipes," he hollers to anyone who'll listen, jostling Chowder by the arm he's wrapped around him, but Chowder just looks positively delighted. Derek feels a strange pang deep in his stomach, even knowing that Shitty's throwing out praise to anyone on the team that'll take it, especially Jack and Chowder. He looks away none the less, sipping from the beer in his hands.

Dex drops next to him all of a sudden, and Derek jumps, surprised, looking at Dex with suspicion. Dex doesn't do anything though, not a hint of antagonism in the relaxed set of his shoulders. Derek figures it must be from the win, until Dex leans over and settles against Derek, and Derek tenses unconsciously, looking more closely at Dex then. He's flushed from drink, eyes a little shuttered, expression relaxed and happy. He looks somewhere in the range of blissed out, uncommon for Dex and his constant discomfort and questioning of things, especially around Derek. He knows that Dex wouldn't like him seeing him like this, that he's just like this from alcohol, but Derek can feel the tightening in his stomach none the less.

"Hey," Dex says to him, eyes shining, and he nuzzles at Derek's neck. Derek can feel his pulse jump, tries to ignore the way he thinks of pale, freckled skin contrasted against the darker shade of his own.

"You are so smashed, man," Derek tells him, sipping at his beer as he watches a lethargic smile spread stupidly onto Dex's lips.

"'S nice," Dex responds, cuddling closer.

Chowder wanders over then, Shitty apparently having shifted his enthusiastic and affectionate attentions over to their captain. He's smiling, and it seems to falter in surprise when he sees them, Derek tensing in anticipation of his reaction, but he relaxes when it registers, smile coming back stronger.

"This is unusual," he says, dropping onto Derek's other side and snuggling up to him, but Derek knows it's not the drinks the upperclassmen have pushed onto him for his sixty minutes of ice-time glory so much as it is just Chowder.

"Dex is fucking wasted," Derek informs him.

"No 'm not," Dex murmurs, grumpy defiance in his voice, but he seems to be falling asleep on Derek's shoulder, so he's not taking a lot of stock in it.

Chowder smiles a little bit at that, softer from the grin he's been radiating since their win, hiding it in Nursey's shoulder despite that Dex is too far gone to have noticed.

Bitty wanders over then, and when he catches sight of them his phone whips out faster than a cowboy's pistol in a gunfight. It's more than a little alarming, considering he's dressed in drag with a rolling pin in one hand with what looks like a blood stain on it.

"Don't even think about it," Derek says immediately. Bitty has a social media addiction at the best of times, and he's been even worse all night with the addition of Halloween and their game. Usually Derek doesn't mind, but there's no way he wants this all over twitter and spread among Bitty's multitude of followers.

Bitty actually pouts. "But you all look so cute. I rarely see all three of you getting along."

Derek feels a vague pan of guilt, knowing he and Dex are always on rocky ground, even around Chowder, who doesn't deserve it in the least, especially since he's often caught in the middle. "No pictures." he affirms, not budging.

Dex makes a sort of grumbling sound, annoyance evident even while he's on the edge of sleep, and he curls further into the heat of Derek that's covering him. Bitty just seems to soften even more, looking like he wants to come over and squish their faces or maybe pinch their cheeks, or possibly wrap all of them up into one of his small but forceful southern hugs. There's no possible way Bitty's arms could fit around all three of them, but Derek certainly doesn't put it passed him to try.

"Please," Bitty whines. "Just one picture."

"No way," Derek says. Dex makes a vague soft of sigh against Derek's neck, his breath spilling over the collar of Derek's shirt. He tries not to shiver.

Bitty presses his lips together, looking disappointed, but he does wander off, heading off in the vague direction of what sounds like a ramping up game of beer pong, likely to attempt to either bully or unknowingly charm Jack into more Halloween selfies. (Derek's still kind of amazed they actually managed to get him into a costume, even in something as simple as a cat. It reminds Derek of Mean Girls in an uncomfortable way, and for once he's actually glad Jack wouldn't get the reference.)

Derek glances down at Chowder, who he's surprised didn't perk up at the sight of Bitty, who's practically taken on the role of Chowder's away-from-home-mother. Chowder seems to be somewhere in the range of where Dex is, beginning to drowse on Derek's other shoulder. He nudges him, and Chowder makes a mewling sound and readjusts himself against Derek's side.

"Nursey," he groans, voice deeper with sleep, and heat curls into Derek's stomach in a way that makes him feel inappropriate.

"Up," he tells him, continuing to nudge Chowder up, even though this might be the most comfortable he's ever been. Chowder eventually does, eyes sleep heavy as he rocks to his feet, and Derek turns his attentions to Dex then, shaking him awake.

"No," Dex says, trying to burrow into Derek's shirt.

"C'mon, let's get you back to the dorm." He's surprised by the gentleness in his own voice.

Dex makes a sort of "humph" noise, but Derek ignores it, pulling and pushing him onto his feet. Dex wavers, and Derek reaches out, weaving an arm around Dex's waist before he thinks about it. He feels distinctly uncomfortable afterwards, but Dex doesn't seem to mind, dropping his head back onto Derek's shoulder. Chowder comes forward there, and he must be significantly less inebriated despite everything all the drinks people have been pushing on him all night, because he comes up on Dex's other side and winds an arm around him to help Derek support his weight.

They haul Dex out, throwing a wave at Lardo as they make their way out, how looks like she's caught up in a conversation with either one of her art student friends or one of the lacrosse team kids poking fun at his own sport with his t-shirt. (It's got a picture of a lacrosse stick and the words "stick it to the man".) Hard to tell with the Samwell crowd.

Dex grumbles as they make their way back to the dorm, looking like he's still trying to find a way to fall asleep on Derek's shoulder while they walk with stumbling steps.

"Um," Chowder says, hesitating, when they pass his door before they've made it to Dex's room.

"Go ahead, Chowder," Derek tells him, shifting as much of Dex's weight onto himself as possible with Chowder still has an arm around the ginger.

"You sure?" Chowder asks, but his arm is already loosening.

"Yeah, I got him," he says, and Chowder lets go then, throwing him a smile as he disappears through the door. Dex leans completely into Derek, turning and burying his face into the curve of Derek's throat with a mumble he can't catch. "Let's get you to bed, Gingy."

Dex just mumbles, putting all of his weight onto Derek, and he's a heavy, dead body made up of hockey muscle and build, but Derek's still bigger than him, taller and wider and thicker muscled, so while Dex isn't exactly light he's still manageable.

He gets to the room, and then realizes he doesn't have Dex's key. He nudges Dex. "Hey, where's your key?"

Dex just grunts at the shove, curling in again, completely ignoring Derek's words. Derek sighs, realizing it's a lost cause.

He starts with Dex's jacket, digging into the pockets, but comes up with nothing but a paperclip and some lint. He pauses, but Dex seems to be mostly gone, so Derek's hoping that he's not going to remember this. Then he reaches into Dex's jean pockets and digs around for the key.

He checks both front pockets, Dex grumbling softly into his ear, before he finds it in his left back pocket. He's relieved, to say the least.

He opens the door with the key in one hand, somehow still managing to keep Dex balanced with the other as he jiggles it in the lock. (Dex's door seems substantially more stubborn than his own.)

He finally hauls it open, and notes with a spark of unexpected easing of tension that Dex's room mate isn't there. He must be out at a Halloween party, and Derek hadn't been aware of the way he was holding in a nervous anticipation of possible confrontation.

"Down you go," he grunts, hauling Dex off to him and onto the bed he assumes to bed the ginger's. He's hoping, but he doesn't care much either way if it turns out to be the room mate's. Dex huffs, turning into the covers.

He looks kind of like a mess, with his party rumpled clothes, jacket and shoes still on. Derek sighs before giving in, leaning forward and turning Dex over and back as he slips the jacket off him, throwing it over the back of the desk chair closer to the bed before crouching down to unlace and pull off his shoes. By the time he's laid them down at the foot of the bed, straightening up, he nearly jumps out of his skin when he glances at Dex and sees that his eyes are slitted open the tiniest bit, looking at Derek.

"Hey," he says, heart in his throat, and feels immediately stupid about it.

Dex blinks at him, deep amber eyes that Derek's questioned the colour of more than once, and then reaches an arm out, gesturing until Derek comes forward to his weakly seeking fingers.

"Need something?" he asks, planting a knee of the bedspread beside Dex's hip, peering over him for some sort of liquor-induced injury he missed.

Dex huffs at him, catching a hand into the material of Derek's t-shirt, fingers curled by the side of Derek's torso under his jacket, brushing his ribs through the fabric. Derek looks at him with might be panicked eyes.

Dex's hand lets go of Derek's shirt, but it doesn't pull away, brushing up his back and over his shoulder, up his neck with a touch barely there, stopping at Derek's cheek and trailing up and down softly. "Nursey," he slurs, but there's still an amount of feeling there, desperation and fervent emotion that Derek's never heard in his voice before.

"You are so fucking drunk," he mutters, pulling away from the touch, feeling weirdly cold and lacking afterwards.

"Nursey," Dex whines, actually _whines_ , and Derek jerks away sharply, putting even more distance between them. This is such a bad idea, there is no way Dex would be doing any of this if he wasn't drunk as all hell.

"Night, Dex," he says, and Dex blinks at him, slow and sleepy, and Derek turns and flees the dorm room.

He sits awake for a while afterwards, running his hands over his face as he lies awake in the dark of his dorm room, hands catching on the rough skin of stubble.

* * *

 

When Derek wakes up the next morning, checking his phone with bleary eyes, there's a text waiting for him from Chowder.

It was sent maybe an hour ago, a request for him to _come down for morning brunch! :)_

Yawning, Derek pulls on a hooded sweatshirt, heading over in the sweatpants he'd slept in last night. Half the campus is hung over from Halloween last night, so he's hardly sticking out.

Bitty grins at him when he enters the kitchen, moving to sit next to Chowder at the table. He kicks a leg out once he's settled, and his shin presses against Chowder's by accident, which he tries to pull back from quickly, but Chowder presses back, so he settles there and leaves it.

"You have any special requests?" Bitty asks him, flipping a pancake.

Derek shakes his head. "I can smell French Toast, man. That's all I need."

Bitty smiles over his shoulder at him. "You have good taste."

"You are an angel among men to cook for us, Bits."

Bitty laughs, pleased, turning back to the stove. Jack waders in then, looking a little confused, eyes flickering between him and Chowder at the table over to Bitty. "Something funny?"

"Nursey's just complimenting me for cooking," Bitty says. "You want anything, Jack?"

Jack shakes his head, frowning. "That's okay." He hesitates here, as though he doesn't know if he should say what he thinks of next. "I didn't know you were cooking breakfast."

"Brunch," Bitty corrects, looking offended as he turns away from the stove and towards Jack. "And I didn't have plans initially, but Chowder asked me if I was planning on cooking anything, so I jumped right on it."

"You didn't have to," Chowder says, blushing slightly.

Bitty waves him off. "It's nothing, I'm happy to." He shifts his attention to Jack. "You sure you don't want anything?"

Jack shakes his head again, seeming to have relaxed slightly at the mention that Bitty's cooking for Chowder and not excluding him on purpose. Everyone feels the need to take care of and look after Chowder. He brings out protective instincts in people. He's pretty sure Chowder brings out protective and care-taking instincts in people that never had tehm before. Even Jack, who's quiet at the best of times but still looks out for all of them, seems to keep a careful eye on Chowder.

"Suit yourself," Bitty says, shrugging, turning back to the stove top and watching the pancakes with a hawk-like focus. "But you better look after yourself, I don't want everyone who turned brunch to come crawling to me later whining for food. Y'all should look after yourselves better."

Jack rolls his eyes at Bitty's motherly attentions (Or maybe wifely in his case, who knows.). "I'll be fine, Bittle."

Bittle salutes him without turning.

"Eat some protein," Jack tells him, and Bitty turns towards him to glare, but Jack just throws a smugly mocking smile over his shoulder before leaving the Haus.

"You heard the man," Derek tells him. "There better be some bacon or sausages in the works."

Bitty throws him a look so scathing Derek wonders if he really should be worried the next time Bitty's practising checking in practice. Probably not, even if Bitty could muster up enough courage to really dig in, he's still lightweight compared to Derek. "You think I would forget that with brunch? Y'all are underestimating me."

Derek holds up his hands, placating. Bitty narrows his eyes, and Chowder laughs, evidently more than happy to leave him to the rage of the right winger's small southern tornado.

"Food?" comes a sleep heavy voice from the doorway, and Derek turns to it to watch Dex stumble through the doorway. He stiffens immediately, but Dex doesn't pay him any mind, collapsing into the chair across from Derek, on Chowder's other side.

"Yes, Dex, I'm making brunch," Bitty says, sounding amused.

Dex groans in relief. "Thank God, or I would have trekked across campus for nothing."

Bitty shakes is head. "I worry about all of y'all."

"I think you've 'y'all' three times in the past two minutes," Derek informs him, and Chowder swats at him with a frown, evidently protective of the feelings of his mother figure.

Bitty dotes on Chowder most of all, but he keeps an eye on all of them, even the upperclassmen on the team. All of them submit to it, at the very least, and a lot of the team even seems to appreciate it, though they'd probably never say so, being the gruff jock characters they are. He wonders if it's something he picked up from home, that kind of fussy attentiveness, since Derek's heard things about Bitty's mother. He's pretty sure he heard about Jack getting a care package before. he doesn't know if Bitty realizes ow terrifyingly similar to his mother he sounds.

Bitty rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes, I'm southern and I sound it, I get it. Holster and Ransom bug me about it all the time."

"Could you all quit talking so loud?" Dex groans, face still pressed to the kitchen table. Derek shoots a look at him before he has to look away.

"Wow, you're really hungover, huh?" Chowder says, sounding curious rather than sympathetic.

Dex grunts. "What makes you say that?"

Bitty gives the pancakes one last glance, and he evidently decides they can spare a moment without supervision, because he turns and settles against the counter, crossing one ankle over the other. "You were pretty hammered. I'd be surprised if you can remember anything about last night."

If Derek stiffens at that, no one seems to pay him any mind.

"My head hurts too much to even try right now," Dex grumps.

"I feel like we need to supervise you next time," Derek tells him, and Dex raises his head to glare at him with bloodshot eyes.

"I can manage myself, thank you very much," Dex snaps.

Derek smiles, a smug curl of his mouth showing teeth. "Can you? I'm not so sure, looking at you right now."

Dex kicks him under the table, and it knocks loose the leg he'd had pressed to Chowder's. He'd forgotten it was there, already adjusted to the heat. He jostles Dex's back, before he lets it go and settles his leg against Chowder's. Chowder looks down at the table, fidgeting with his hands as a blush dusts over his cheekbones. Derek feels sharply satisfied with himself.

"Done," Bitty says, sounding relieved that he has a way to break in, setting three empty plates in front of them before setting a full one of pancakes right after. Dex and Derek reach forward and start fighting for them right away, but Chowder waits politely until Bitty's laid out everything else too, syrup and hashbrowns and bacon and sausage. "I wanted to make grits too, but I figured I'd be the only one to eat them."

Chowder sends Bitty an apologetic look. "Sorry."

Bitty smiles softly at him. "Don't worry about it."

He sits down, eating minimally, telling them he already had breakfast after checking practice with Jack. Dex eyes him at that, and he looks like he wants to say something about whether checking is code for something, but he doesn't, saying Bitty from embarrassment.

"Dex," Bitty says, seeming hesitant to approach the topic. Dex, taking a break from his breakfast to see how it settles, has his plate pushed away and his head rested on the arm sprawled out on the table, so he turns it to face Bitty without lifting it. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Dex groans. "I'm fine."

"You _were_  really drunk," Chowder points out. "Nursey and I had to carry you home."

Dex freezes up, tensing, and he lifts his head to stare at Derek. There's a clarity in his eyes that wasn't there before, and if Derek doubted he remembered then, that's shot to hell when Dex says, with feeling, "Fuck."

Derek tries not to flinch. "You were really, really smashed, dude."

Dex scrunches his nose up. "Yeah, I got that much from what I remember, asshole."

Derek scowls at him, and Chowder obviously senses the tension waiting like a powder keg, because he jumps in with, "Hey, Nursey was just helping you back to the dorm. We didn't have to go that early, but we were worried about you, so we both lugged you back. Nursey was just being nice."

Derek smiles at Chowder, trying to divert the attention. "You helped, man. It's not like I helped him back all on my own."

Chowder smiles back, still looking a little cautious of the argument waiting to spark.

"I didn't ask you to," Dex snaps, and Chowder nearly flinches, obviously not having succeeded in stopping the two of them from getting at each other.

Derek turns and throws a glare at Dex. "No, because you were fucking drunk and falling asleep on my shoulder."

Dex bristles. "I'm not a damsel in distress."

"Yeah, well you sure weren't running at full capability either."

"I was buzzed."

"You were smashed to all hell, and you needed help."

Dex stands up then, his chair getting shoved back with a deafening screech across the floor. "I wouldn't have wanted yours!"

Derek stops, jaw locked, the muscle in it jumping, as he and Dex stare each other down with blazing eyes.

"Nursey was there, so he helped," Chowder says, quiet, like he's not sure whether it's better to say something or nothing at all. Derek glances at him, feeling bad about dragging him into the middle in all of their arguments, catching Chowder in the crossfire even when he's not involved, because he cares about them both so much.

Dex takes a deep breath, dropping back into his chair. "Let's just eat breakfast," he mutters, pulling his chair back in with his legs.

* * *

 

Derek feels bad about the whole situation around Halloween, so he shows up at Chowder's dorm before he knows Chowder has to leave for his required English course.

Chowder lights up when he sees him. "Nursey!"

"Hey man," Derek says, and then reaches a hand out. "Want me to carry your bag?"

"Sure," Chowder agrees, enthused, barely seeming to notice Derek taking the weight off him as he chatters excitedly all the way out of the dorms and across the quad towards his class. Derek listens intently, giving small noises that show he's listening when Chowder pauses for them. He's not as animated as Chowder, and even then, he's not in as much of a talkative mood today, content to listen to Chowder.

He tags along with Chowder all the way to his building, telling him emphatically that he should NOT look up Game of Thrones. (Seriously, does everyone else who talks to Chowder know anything about him?) It isn't by the time they're already there, Derek loping up the steps next to him as Chowder becomes determined to keep up with his longer stride, that Derek realizes that Chowder didn't have English, and what class he really has.

They turn the question, and there Dex is, leaning against the wall. He looks up from his phone when sees them, the spray of freckles across his face and down his neck under the collar of his shirt clear.

"Hey," Dex says, looking alarmed at the sight of both of them.

"Hey!" Chowder replies. "Nursey carried my bag."

Derek drops the bag onto Chowder's one shoulder in lieu of a response.

"Oh," Dex says. He doesn't seem to know what else to say. Derek doesn't know if that's better or worse than the way they've had going for the past few weeks to gain favour with Chowder. (And just to make Chowder light up the way he does, at least from Derek's end.)

"Yeah," Derek says, just as stilted, and sort of wants to hit him. "You guys have fun at class, I'm gonna bail." _Have fun in class? Jesus Christ, Derek Nurse._

Dex raises both eyebrows, looking minimally more like himself. "Sure thing, poetry guy."

Derek flips the bird at him, scowling, but he doesn't miss the way Dex's eyes skate over the edge of his tattoo that's bared by the movement.

* * *

 

Derek gets swallowed up into homework, researching for an essay in his Elizabethan Literature Class, and it turns into a cycle of sleep, practice, class, homework, sleep with eating interspersed inbetween that he only emerges from after about two weeks.

Dex smirks at him when he shows up to the Haus, blinking like he's blinded by finally seeing the sun. "Hey there, long time no see."

Derek glares at him, but it doesn't have a lot of heat behind it.

"Yo Nursey!" Shitty calls, rounding the corner into the kitchen, a six pack of beers in one hand and Lardo trailing behind him. "Haven't seen you around in awhile, man. We're having a Haus party tomorrow, you have to come."

Derek blinks. "What are we celebrating?"

Shitty looks at him like he's disappointed. "What, like we need a reason?"

Derek takes that in stride. "Well, okay then."

The frogs are get corralled into helping set up, Lardo directing half of them in what Nursey suspects is just a sick way of her getting them to carry heavy things by begging off with her size. Chowder manages to get free, helping Bitty in the kitchen making snacks, the cheat.

"Are we done yet?" Dex asks, panting after having hauled a cooler full of drinks outside. His face is flushed pink, from exertion and the cooling bite of air outside, and Derek tries not the stare as he rolls up his sleeves to bare pale, freckled arms.

Lardo waves a dismissive hand at him. "Sure, we're almost done. You frogs can check out."

Dex looks grateful, and Derek's relieved himself, able to carry on the back of Dex's attempt to wiggle out. He follows Dex into the kitchen, and Chowder lights up when he sees them, practically dusted head to toe in flour despite that Bitty had claimed the snacks were mostly store bought and not baked. Then again, it's Bitty.

"Hey, you guys done?" Chowder asks.

"Unless Lardo changes her mind, yeah," Derek tells him, and some instinct makes him reach out and wipe the flour off Chowder's cheek. Chowder stares at him, and Derek pulls away, realizing belatedly what the action looks like.

"You can hang out too, Chowder. I think I'm good in here," Bitty tells him, and somehow there's not a spot of flour on him. Derek's about half-convinced he's the pastry-whisperer, though.

"Are you sure?" Chowder asks, all sincere concern.

Bitty turns to smile at him over his shoulder. "Yeah, I'm good."

Chowder smiles back, that being all the reassurance he needs, happily trailing after Derek and Dex to collapse on the green couch on the living room. He gets there only a second after them, and instead of sitting in the space between them, he flops down to lie across their laps.

Derek freezes up for only a second, before he relaxes and lays a hand in Chowder's hair, running through the strands with a careful touch. Dex seems to have tensed up and frozen that way permanently, staring down at Chowder's legs in his lap, arms in the air after his involuntary jump from Chowder landing on them and still left there, like he's either forgotten them in his focus or doesn't know what to do with them.

Derek elbows Dex in the side, thankfully not the arm he's running through Chowder's hair. Dex jumps, looking at him in surprise, eyes wide and startled and maybe a little frantic.

'Touch him,' he mouths, and Dex's eyes still look alarmed, but he glances back down at Chowder sprawled across his lap and gently lays his hands down onto Chowder's legs.

Chowder makes a muffled sound of contentment, and Dex and Derek meet eyes over top of him.

Derek isn't entirely what sure passes between them then, a connectedness and understanding that Derek can see and feel and understand in his eyes but isn't sure he could put into words, and the moment's broken when the rest of the guys come trailing back in, rowdy and happy to be done with the work and move onto the partying.

The night's not quite as rowdy as their first game night on Halloween, but it's a close thing, the various members of the team doing kegsters and then trying to get anyone else within reach to do so as well, and Derek watches with marked amusement and does nothing to help as Dex gets lifted by Holster and Ransom and practically forced into doing one.

He comes back, grumpy and flushed, a beer in hand that he's using like a shield against the guys trying to come back for him again.

"Have fun?" Derek asks.

"Fuck off," Dex mutters, wandering away into the crowd.

Derek follows, out of some masochistic urge to fight with Dex some more, poke at the flush on his cheeks from being tipped in the air, who knows, but he does, weaving by people until he bumps up against Dex's back as he suddenly stops.

He steps around Dex, brushing a hand over his lower back to steady the movement without thinking about it, pulling it back a second later and pretending it never happened. Before them is Chowder, looking happy and chatting with a guy who has to be at least half a foot taller and twice as wide. And well, Chowder's not the biggest guy on the team, but he's still got a pretty basic hockey build -- he's not a small guy.

"Hey guys!" Chowder greets them, overflowing with enthusiasm. "This is Greg, he plays on the rugby team."

"Hey," Greg says back, seeming to be charmingly amused by Chowder. Chowder doesn't seem to notice the faint way he's being taken as entertainment.

"Hi Greg," Dex says, voice and smile tight, grabbing Chowder by the shoulder and pulling him closer to them. "We were just looking for our buddy Chowder here."

Chowder doesn't seem to mind being manhandled, happy to be in anyone's space and getting attention. For once Derek's in agreement in Dex; as much as he sometimes hates the sight of Chowder and Dex together, Dex jabbing at him by spending time with Chowder, he likes seeing their goalie with this guy even less.

Greg shrugs, throwing a smile at Chowder. "He was just telling me about how he can do the splits."

Chowder grins. "Yeah! He seemed pretty interested in how much flexibility is needed in goal-tending, it was pretty cool."

Dex and Derek exchange a look, glancing back at Greg together. "Well, it was nice meeting you," Derek says.

"You too," Greg says, but his eyes and smile are all on Chowder.

Derek feels satisfying relieved to drag Chowder away. Dex seems to agree, if the look on his face when he lets go of Chowder when they reach the quieter kitchen is anything to go by.

"So what did you two need me for?" Chowder asks, all innocence.

Dex freezes up, taking on a deer in the headlights look, but Derek doesn't miss a beat, easily saying, "You're our third man, of course we're going to look to spend time with you."

Chowder looks at him, all soft flattered eyes, completing glancing over the fact that Derek and Dex didn't need to drag him away from another conversation like he'd hoped he would. "Do you really like me that much, Nursey?"

Derek feels a clench in his chest as something in him says _more_. "Yeah, of course Chowder."

Dex throws an arm across Chowder's shoulders. "Always."

He says it like a promise, and in that moment, it feels like one.

Shitty comes bursting into the kitchen then, fixing in on them as soon as he catches them in his sights. "There you fuckers are, we have to destroy your innocence."

Derek laughs, and Dex smiles in that way that sometimes looks like a grimace, but it's not quite there. Shitty doesn't wait, whirling around because he knows they'll follow, and Derek tries not to think too much about why guys would be interested in Chowder's ability to do the splits.

* * *

 

Something shifts.

Whereas before, Derek and Dex felt like they were at odds, opposite ends of a battlefield, they're falling more into a united front now. Chowder's their linchpin, their centre, and while it's patronizing to pretend he needs help all the time, Derek feels better about him when he knows Dex has his back, or has his hands ready to catch Chowder if Derek's not there when he falls. It's not quite getting along, but it's somewhere along the way.

They wreck their next game.

He and Dex hit the ice likes it's made for them, like the pucks are magnetized away from the goal and to their sticks, and they fly, smooth blades cutting grooves and setting up a wall against the other team. Lardo obviously notices, the coaches too, eyes alight with interest and expectation and hope. It's only one game, but it feels like a beginning.

Dex and Derek are in the rink when the time ticks down, the D-man pair set up with Jack and Bitty's line. Bitty skates passed them as the buzzer goes, gleaming like he's the mother. Which, he kind of is.

"That was beautiful," Derek tells Chowder when they all line up to give their customary head bump of thanks to their man in net, and Chowder flushes a little darker, already pink from the cold coming off the ice, grinning with pleasure.

When Derek skates away, heading back to the locker room, he catches Dex's eye. He expects the ginger to glare, maybe say something scathing, but he smiles.

* * *

 

Derek feels off-balance. He's spending most of his time outside of class with Dex and Chowder, which he sort of was before, in a way, but he'd been doing it to tag with Chowder and Dex just kind of came along with that and the team in general. Now it feels less like a tug-o-war, Dex and him at opposite ends of Chowder and pulling him in two directions, tearing him down the middle, and more like the three of them, a ring, a circle, equals settling equal pressure onto the lines connecting them.

Chowder seems to notice too, and he's grinning all the time, watching with bright eyes as Dex and Derek bicker, most of the bite gone and more like kids teasing or puppies playing. He looks the happiest Derek's ever seen him, the most content, and there's something a little wistful beyond the feeling that makes Derek thinks he wishes this could last forever. Derek sort of agrees.

They're playing beautifully, and Derek loves his team, likes the older guys too, but there's something about the moments with Chowder and Dex, something fragile and untouchable and raw, something new, something theirs. It's not the same as spending time with Holster and Ransom and Jack and Shitty; there's something here that lies thrumming under Derek's skin, a possibility for something new.

Derek's worried it'll come to a head too soon.

* * *

 

He's right.

It all comes imploding in on itself, crashing in, collapsing. It happens quickly.

It starts when all three of them are together, Chowder asking them up to his dorm to grab something before they head out to hang. Derek and Dex tag along, and Derek accidentally brushes him as they pass through the door, so Dex throws him a narrow look and bumps him back with his hip, and Derek nearly stumbles into the wall, not braced for it like he is on the ice even if it's playful.

"Just sit wherever while I dig," Chowder tells them, gesturing around his dorm room as he digs through the mess of stuff on top of his desk. Derek doesn't hesitate, dropping onto Chowder's bed, but Dex is more hesitant, shifting on his feet and looking around before he settles into Chowder's room mate's desk chair.

"You don't have to sit so far, away, Dex," Derek says, smooth and relaxed. He feels cocooned in this moment. "I don't bite," he smiles here, wicked, "or at least, not without being asked."

Dex flushes, face going red and nearly washing his freckles away under the deep colour. Derek grins wider, and Dex's look turns annoyed at being embarrassed, picking up a book from the desk he's sitting at and chucking it at Derek.

"Dex!" Chowder shouts, scandalized.

Derek's laughing, grabbing the book from where it'd bounced to a stop on the bedspread. Dex scowls at Chowder. "He started it!" Dex protests.

"Well you don't have to throw a book." Chowder sounds exasperated.

Dex harrumphs, and Derek lobs the book back at him in an easy toss, Dex catching it between his hands and setting it back onto the desk.

"I'm not your type, I know," Derek says, and he means it to be joking, but it comes out surprisingly wistful and bitter. He's hoping Dex doesn't pick up on it.

Dex gives him somewhere between a confused and wary look. "Damn glad you're not, either."

Derek manages to quell his flinch. "I'm too good for you, anyway."

Something flashes through Dex's eyes. "Like hell you're the one that's too good here," he hisses, and Derek gets the feeling then that Dex isn't relating that to an imagined relationship between them.

Derek frowns at Dex. "Get off your fucking high horse."

Dex practically bares his teeth. "You don't get to police me. You don't get to tell me when I'm doing right or wrong. _You_  started this."

"I didn't even mean to start anything," Derek explodes, jumping to his feet. Dex tenses in his chair, but he isn't up yet. "I was just doing something nice. You looked into it more, you turned it into a competition when I wasn't trying to make it one."

"You could have just quit," Dex snaps, rising then, getting in Derek's face even though Derek's a touch taller.

"He's too good to quit on, and you know that," Derek hisses.

"Guys," Chowder's voice breaks in, and Derek turns to him, catching Chowder's wide, wide eyes. He looks mostly shocked, but there's a touch of emotion underneath that -- disappointment, maybe. Hurt, loss.

"It's all his fucking fault," Dex snaps, trying to shoulder the blame off.

Derek throws Dex a glare. "Don't put this all on me. And especially in front of Chowder."

Dex sneers, challenging. "You just know you don't deserve him."

Derek can feel his expression shuttering off, rage-filled and determined, and he turns away from Dex and grabs Chowder, who's maybe half facing them both. He whirls him around and hauls him into a kiss, and he's aware of the soft, chapped lips and the warm skin of Chowder's neck under his fingers, heart hammering up into his throat as something both tenses and eases within him all at once, before he pulls back sharply, remembering why he did that and that Dex is still _right there_.

"Shit Chowder, I'm sorry."

Chowder looks up at him with wide, dazed eyes (this sends a shot of heat into his stomach) that are rapidly clearing. "What, you didn't want to?"

"No, I did," Derek scrambles to clarify. "Just... not like this."

Chowder tilts his head.

"I'm -- I did it for the wrong reasons," he answers, ashamed.

"Really," Dex says, dry, and Derek spares him a heated glare.

Chowder's brow is furrowing. "What do you mean?"

"Dex and I have... sort of been fighting over you to piss the other off." He throws a wary glance towards Dex.

"We both wanted you to like us better," Dex admits, avoiding both of their eyes.

Hurt sparks in Chowder's eyes. "You just did it to mess with each other?"

"Chowder, no," Derek says, reaching for Chowder's wrist.

"Never," Dex adds adamantly.

He's pretty sure it's the first time they've ever been whole-heartedly on the same page and side, not even hockey unites them at this level; they work together, but even then, they're happy to let the other suffer mistakes that let them look better as long as it doesn't cost the team anything, or the argue about how any slip-ups when they're both on the ice is the other's fault. There's something deeper to this, pushing anything between them aside to come together for Chowder, focused on one thing and leaving everything between them out of it.

"We both liked you anyway. Messing with each other was just... a bonus," Dex says.

"You were using me to make the other jealous?" Chowder asks, glancing between them with wide eyes.

Derek and Dex exchange a look.

Derek thinks that maybe they were, and he wasn't even aware of it. He thinks maybe that was a part of what he was doing, unconscious in the back of his head, but Dex possibly wasn't even aware of that much, because he looks even more shocked than Derek feels.

Chowder smiles then, and he's not making any noise, but laughter is pulling at his mouth. "You two are impossible."

Derek turns and smacks him on the arm. "You're the one that needs the most taking care of, goalie."

Chowder looks between them, eyes hesitant but hopeful. "But I've got two people for the job now, don't I?"

"Yeah," Dex agrees, coming forward and draping an arm across Chowder's shoulders, "you do."

Derek thought maybe seeing them together, seeing them both close, might have made him jealous, ugly emotion churning in his stomach. Somehow it's just the opposite, fondness rising through him, pleasant heat swimming out of his heart and curling through his veins. There's a part of him they're letting him see, letting him hold, only in the space between the three of them. Derek gets to keep them, and there's both a giddiness and relief in that.

"My turn," Dex says, and Derek doesn't know what he means until he turns Chowder slightly, leaning down to kiss him. Derek grins at them both, pleased, and Chowder melts into the touch, fingers clutching at the front of Dex's shirt. He wonders if that's what Chowder looked like kissing him.

Dex pulls away and makes hands at him, and Derek doesn't need a translation to know what that means. He takes a few large steps, hands drifting up to cup Dex's face, gentler than he thought the two of them could be, lowering his head and kissing him too. Dex makes a noise into it, like he's frustrated at Derek being light, and he presses forward hard, nipping at Derek's bottom lip when he tries to pull away to soften it.

Derek pulls away, laughing as he breaks the kiss. "Eager."

Dex manages to take a hand off Chowder's waist to slug him in the shoulder. "Shut up. You know he's the one to be gentle with, you and I are where the roughness comes in."

They haven't done anything before, but based on everything sitting under the surface that led him here, Derek knows he's right. He turns to check on Chowder, who's watching them both and looking like the whole situation is slightly surreal. Derek leans down and kisses him, quick, on impulse. Chowder begins to smile as he pulls away, spreading slow.

"This is great," he says, and Dex snorts, but he keeps grinning, leaning his head on the ginger's shoulder.

"Do you think we have some catching up to do?" Derek says, looking between them both. The feelings for this have been there almost the whole time, and they've just been stupid about it. Although, maybe if this had happened any sooner it all would have fallen apart, none of them ready for it. Derek feels ready for it now.

"Yeah," Chowder says, eyes, mouth, face bright.

Dex rolls his eyes, but Derek knows he's as happy and relieved as both of them. "What, you think I'm going to object two guys getting me off?"

Derek frowns at him. "I'm not just here to jack you off, Poindexter."

Dex lifts his eyebrows, but Chowder turns shy. Derek catches it, turning towards him. "Chowder?"

Chowder, already leaning on Dex's side, so he buries his reddening face in his shoulder.

"Dude," Derek tries again.

"I'd really like that. If we could. Do that. Do that sort of thing with each other," Chowder says, muffled into Dex's shirt, the same stilted stop and go he does when he doesn't know how to word himself.

Derek catches Dex's eye for a moment, and Dex obviously catches where he's going, working with him like when they manage a wavelength on the ice, a team and partnership easily aware of where the other is and what they're doing. Dex turns, head nudging Chowder's free, and he starts to mouth along the column of Chowder's throat, which, wow, is a much nicer sight than Derek predicted. He doesn't let himself get distracted though, stepping forward and catching Chowder's face in his hands, sliding a light kiss from one side of his mouth to the other. He pulls away, looking down at Chowder. "Your wish is our command."

Dex snorts, but Derek knows he's still on board. He's kind of stuck with them now.

* * *

 

They're lying together afterwards, quiet, catching their breath and reflecting, when Dex levers himself on one elbow and reaches out with his other arm to trail a careful arm along the edge of Derek's tattoo. "I've always wondered, but I never asked you what this meant," he says, quiet as though not to break the moment.

Chowder's eyes flicker open, though he doesn't move, looking interested in Dex's question too.

"I want to be the beginning of a sleeve," Derek starts, and both their eyes seem to light up at that, eyes skating over the bare skin of his arm. Derek almost shivers, even though the air is warm. "It's based off Navajo tapestry. My Mom's half native, and half black, but my Dad's white and we're well off... and I didn't want to forget, I guess. Going to college, surrounded by everyone else being white, I guess I didn't want to forget that part of myself, where I came from and my family came from and the roots that make me more than the rich kid from Andover."

Dex's eyes are sort in a way Derek didn't expect, but it's not pitying, and he leans forward, ghosting a soft kiss over the ink delicately and permanently put into his skin. It's not sexual, but somehow that just seems to make Derek's heartbeat even louder in his ears, throat closing up as he feels a fondness and warmth and protectiveness rise up in him for these two.

Chowder gets up too, climbing to his knees and stretching over Derek's body to lay a soft kiss on his jaw.

Dex looks up then, meeting his eyes. "Seventeen, though?"

Derek laughs.

* * *

The rest of the team must notice something's changed, though they're not obvious about it, Derek knowing because of Holster coming up to him after a practice again and telling him, "Whatever you two did, I'm glad to see you and Dex getting along better."

Derek shrugs, knowing there's no way he could explain even if he wanted to. One of your fellow D-men doesn't seem like the place to say that he and Dex are getting along because they've learned they can be single-minded with looking after Chowder, both sexually and outside of that, and somehow that's translated into other things. It seems bizarre to explain that it all started with Derek sucking Chowder off, Dex kissing the sounds out of his mouth as he did, and hauling Derek up after, pulling him towards him and practically letting out a growl when Derek made a half-hearted effort at pulling away just for the sake of him, leaning over Chowder to kiss him and pulling Derek close enough to get a hand around them both, ending with the two of them making a mess all over Chowder's stomach.

Yeah, that's definitely not the reasoning he can give to Holster.

"We've been figuring out the ways we can get along, even if we're not eye to eye on everything," Derek says. It sounds like a fitting neutral statement.

"Well, either way, man." Holster says, clapping Derek on the shoulder and then wandering away, probably looking for more attention from Ransom.

"What was that about?" comes a voice at his back, and he can feel Dex come up behind him, a hand brushing warm at his lower back as though Dex is leaving comfort as a cautionary measure.

"Nothing," Derek says, smiling without meaning to, pulling Dex to stand at his side and waiting for Chowder to come off the ice, the three of them heading down the tunnel together.


End file.
